


Facades

by ddagent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts from the 'Masquerade' verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bae tries to play matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the lovely folks at ABC.
> 
> These are all the Masquerade prompts I have received so far re-edited and in one shiny place. Enjoy!

_letsgoanddream prompted:_

_"Bae tries to play match-maker"_

Bae had only met his father's employer Ms French a handful of times. The first had been at his custody proceedings. She had sat on the back row, smiling whenever a point was made in his father's favour. She'd even waved at him. The second had been after his father had gained sole custody and Ms French had taken them all out for a celebratory dinner. Bae hadn't seen his father so happy in years, and he realised it was all to do with Ms French.

 

After that dinner Bae made it his mission to bring the two closer together.  

 

His efforts were slow. He rarely had the opportunity to talk to Ms French and whenever he did she would always ask after _him_ \- his schoolwork, his writing. Though he had yet to persuade her she was the perfect woman for his father, Bae needed no persuading that Belle would be the perfect mother for him. 

 

His first real chance came at a book launch his father was assisting with. His father had brought him along after much begging and Bae was left to roam under the proviso that he didn't cause trouble. He found Ms French near the fountain, conversing with two major publishers. Bae waited until she was done before he joined her.  

 

“Afternoon Ms French,” Bae greeted. "Such a lovely launch."

 

"Why thank you Master Gold." She grinned at him. "So, how are you Bae? How's school?"

 

Bae shrugged. “Okay I guess. Nothing much to report. Dad’s fine. A little lonely though." He coughed, pulling out the big guns. "I'm getting quite worried about what'll happen when I go off to college. I have my heart set on Fabler, you see, not NYU."

 

Belle giggled, reaching over to tousle his hair. “Master Bae, your father has four years before you leave for college. Even then I’ll be there for him. I…care a lot about your father. I won’t see him unhappy.”

 

Bae realised then that Belle already saw his father as the man she wanted to be with. She just hadn’t told him yet. It seemed his work was already done. He would start planning his best man toast that night.


	2. At just the right height

_riskpig prompted:_

_"At just the right height"_

Andrew Gold loved his wife dearly. He loved the way she walked, loved the way she talked, loved the way she kissed and he _loved_ the way she loved him and Bae. If there was one thing he _had_ to dislike about his wife, it was the fact that in her trademark heels she was a good inch taller than him.

 

It only really became an issue when they attended one of Belle's various functions. She liked to look imposing and so out came the high heels. The higher the better, although it meant Andrew had to reach up to kiss his wife. The first time he'd done it there had been sniggers from a couple of publishers. The second time there had been a smirk from one of Belle's writers who had always had a crush on her.

 

He was on the arm of the most beautiful woman in the world. An incredibly powerful and intelligent one too. Yet at another one of her functions he retreated to the patio. Belle seemed to be all right talking to the writer by the bar. He was a tall man, at least a few inches taller than Andrew was. A much better choice than Andrew himself.

 

He swallowed his champagne, letting his self-pity wash over him. He was being ridiculous, he knew that. Yet he still couldn't understand why Belle loved him. Why _him?_

 

"Andrew?" a voice called out onto the patio. _Belle._ Knowing it was ridiculous to hide from his wife, Andrew waved a hand to reveal himself. His wife soon joined him, throwing her arms around his neck when she was close enough. "Are you okay, love? You disappeared so quickly."

 

He nodded, wishing he had more alcohol in his glass. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just...I get a little tired of all the ribbing." Belle looked confused. "You know, because you're taller than me in heels? I'm sorry, I'm being so silly."

 

"You're not being silly. I just keep forcing rude people on you." Belle reached down and took off her heels, throwing them into the corner before pressing herself against him again.  “Now we’re the perfect height for kissing.”

 

And then Belle proved her point. 


	3. Rumple knows a thing or two about poetry

_riskpig prompted:_

_"Rumple knows a thing or two about poetry"_

 

Andrew was a designer: he knew stitches, fabrics, cuts. He wasn’t so good with words. Belle's ex boyfriend, however, was  _very_ good with them. 

 

"Belle, you look truly divine. I can't imagine a more beautiful woman than you."

 

Andrew missed the rest of Mark's spiel, so focussed on the man's mouth so close to his wife's, Belle's hands clutching at the other man's lapel. When Belle finally introduced him, his hand shook in Mark's grasp. The man was taller than he, with broader shoulders and darker hair. He knew more about books too, encouraging other writers to join their conversation. Once again, Andrew had nothing to contribute. He was a dead weight on Belle's arm.

 

Not wanting to embarrass her like he had the last time they attended one of these functions. Andrew escaped to the garden. What was she _doing_ with him? He wasn't her intellectual equal, wasn't even close to being her physical equal. Mark was more suited for her: after all they had dated for eight months. Andrew wondered every day why Belle had agreed to marry him. He still didn't have an answer.

 

Hands slipped over his shoulders, massaging her tense muscles. "Whatever you're thinking about, stop. I'm all yours for the rest of the evening." Belle appeared in view, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. "I'm sorry I got distracted."

 

"It's no matter. I just..." He bowed his head. "I don't like Cavendish; he rubs me up the wrong way. I hated the way he was talking about you. _Divine_ my eye."

 

Belle snorted, her hands reaching further down his chest. She snuggled against him, her teeth toying with his earlobe. "Are you saying I’m not?" 

 

Andrew sighed, shaking his head. “Your beauty makes me tremble but it’s your heart that captured me. Your beautiful heart makes mine ache. Cavendish can say all the poetic crap he wants, but it’s not real. Real words come from the heart." 

 

Cavendish was soon forgotten as Andrew traced line after line of heartfelt words into Belle’s skin, the married couple making quiet love in the secluded garden. 


End file.
